Snow fell like ash.
The road leading to the Northern Dominion stretched for miles — a frozen artery that cut through dead forests and mountains of ice. But on that day, the silence of winter was broken by the rhythmic march of armored boots.
The Silver Cross Division had come.
Two thousand holy knights in white steel, their armor engraved with runes of purification, marched beneath banners bearing Heaven's crest — a radiant sun upon a silver field. Their discipline was flawless, their formation perfect.
And at their head rode Saint Commander Lirian of the Pure Flame, the youngest Saint to ever lead Heaven's army on mortal soil.
Her eyes were like molten silver — sharp, cold, merciless. Her golden hair, braided and bound with runic chains, shimmered faintly beneath the dying sun.
She rode a snow-white horse, her blade resting across her lap. The sword pulsed with divine light — Seraph's Edge, forged in Heaven's fire.
"Two weeks," she murmured to her adjutant. "That's how long it took him to defeat the First Host."
Her voice carried no emotion, only purpose.
"Let's see if his arrogance can withstand the wrath of man and god alike."
The adjutant bowed. "We march under Heaven's grace, Saint Commander."
Lirian's lips curved faintly. "Grace is for the faithful. We march with judgment."
The command echoed through the ranks.
"Silver Cross — advance!"
The army began its slow, unstoppable march toward the fortress of Wintercrest.
Inside the Duke's war room, the atmosphere was thick with strategy and unease.
Arden stood before a vast map of the northern territories. Candles flickered, casting shadows across his sharp features.
Ryn pointed to the southern border. "Scouts confirm it — the Church's army crossed the Frostveil Pass yesterday. They'll reach our frontier in three days."
Selene's tail flicked, her tone bristling. "So the lambs have decided to bite the wolf."
Raven leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Their commander… she's not ordinary. I've heard of Lirian of the Pure Flame. They say she wields Heaven's fire and never leaves a heretic breathing."
Arden traced a line on the map with his finger — from the Frostveil Pass to the Frozen Plains. "Then we'll meet her before the gates."
Ryn frowned. "My Duke, are you planning to fight her personally?"
He looked up, eyes steady. "When Heaven sends a message, you don't ignore it. You return it — signed in blood."
Meanwhile, Celestia knelt within the chapel of Wintercrest. The candles flickered weakly as she tried to summon her divine aura. Silver light pulsed faintly across her palms… then sputtered out.
Her body trembled. Her once radiant wings now appeared translucent — fading at the edges like mist.
She clenched her fists, whispering to herself. "No… not yet. I can't—"
Arden entered quietly, his footsteps echoing across the marble floor.
He watched her for a moment before speaking. "Your power is fading faster."
Celestia's lips curved into a tired smile. "A fitting punishment for one who defied Heaven."
He approached, kneeling beside her. "Or perhaps… a gift. You're becoming human."
She looked at him, startled. "You speak of mortality as if it were grace."
He met her gaze, eyes calm. "Because it is. It means you can choose — to live, to love, to fight, not because you must… but because you want to."
For a long moment, neither spoke. The silence between them was warm, not heavy.
Then Celestia whispered, "If I fall in this war, promise me you won't let them twist my name."
Arden's hand brushed her cheek, a rare gentleness in his voice. "I'll make sure Heaven remembers you as the goddess who defied eternity."
Three days later, the skies turned dark.
From the fortress walls, the Northern scouts spotted the glint of white steel advancing across the horizon. The Silver Cross army — a river of divine fire flowing through the snow.
Ryn gripped her spear. "They've brought siege engines. And… is that—?"
Arden's eyes narrowed. He could see her — Lirian — leading from the front, her aura blazing like a pillar of light.
"So the Saint of Flame herself walks the frost."
He turned to his captains. "Prepare the wolf riders. I want scouts circling them from both flanks. No direct confrontation until I give the signal."
Selene smirked. "And if they try to burn our forest?"
"Then we burn their faith."
That night, under a crimson moon, Lirian stood before her camp, gazing at the flickering lights of Wintercrest in the distance.
She closed her eyes, whispering a prayer.
"O Light Above, grant me the strength to purify the heretic. To cleanse the world of his defiance."
As she opened her eyes again, her sword flared with golden fire — and for a moment, deep within that holy light, something else flickered.
A shadow of doubt.
In Wintercrest, Arden sat by the window of his war chamber, sharpening Heavenbreaker.
The sound of steel on whetstone echoed softly, steady, patient.
Celestia entered silently, watching him. "The Saint approaches. You could still flee."
Arden's eyes never left his blade. "I didn't defy Heaven to run from its servants."
He lifted the sword, its edge glinting in the firelight. "If the gods want obedience, they'll find none here. Only resistance."
Celestia smiled faintly, her fading aura pulsing once more — as though in answer to his defiance.
"Then let them come," she whispered. "Let the world see what happens when Heaven meets the will of man."
Outside, the horns of war sounded.
The Silver Cross had reached the gates of the North.
As the snowstorm began to rise, Arden donned his black armor, the wolf sigil of his house gleaming on his chest.In his eyes burned the same golden light that had once split Heaven's army apart.
And on the other side of the field, the Saint of Flame raised her blade.
For the first time in centuries, Heaven's fire would clash against mortal will — and the outcome would shake both worlds.